And then he was there, his cock roaring up inside her like a rampaging animal, and great billows of intense pleasure swirled through her loins. He heaved and pumped, and she bucked wildly against him, instinctively locking her legs around his churning buttocks and crying out for more, farther, deeper. Finally, with a scream erupting from the two of them together, he had filled her hotly sucking young vagina with boiling, surging spurts of liquid fire in an overwhelming, never-ending flow.
Lynn opened her eyes, surprised to find she was still on the deck of the gently tossing Vera, and not in her own back-yard, lying quietly with Mark in the sudden stillness of their spent passions. She didn't have to look down at her lightly clothed body to know that her nipples were hard now, as they had been on that night, or that her pubic hair was moist from the lubrication which her mental images had caused her quivering cunt to secrete. She was aroused, aroused as she always was whenever she thought about her husband Mark and making love with him. And then the reality of her present position painfully forced its way back into the upper levels of her consciousness, causing her to tense again with the difficulty of her decision.
Should she complain to Harry, force him to do something about the violent attack his captain had made on her? Or would that simply create an impossible situation aboard the Vera, a situation that would antagonize Harry, anger him, make him think twice about conducting a business deal with a man whose wife did not even have sense enough to keep herself from getting raped? Lynn twisted on the deck in indecision. Surely she should have known better than to go with Hans to his cabin, surely she could have done something to stop his crazed attack, unless…
Lynn turned away from the rail, tortured by the doubts in her mind, wracked by the fear that perhaps she had done nothing because she had secretly wanted Hans to take her, had wanted his huge cock thundering up her helplessly gaping vaginal passage, spewing forth its searing load into the deepest part of her soft belly…
God, no! she cried to herself, No, that can't be! It can't! The voluptuous young wife pulled her knees up to her small heaving breasts, trying again to think of her husband, trying to rid herself of the unpleasant suspicions she knew in her heart must be untrue. Gradually the trembling woman grew quieter, the pounding in her breast lessened, and she began to let the rocking of the Vera lull her again into a more relaxed state. She lowered her knees, letting the tension flow out of them with the realization that she hadn't invited Hans' cruel attack, hadn't welcomed it, and, she thought, had only responded in order to lessen the incredible pain he was inflicting on her.
The petite young girl gazed up at the night sky, trying to recapture the feel of her husband's warm body up between her thighs, his head lowered on her shoulder in the aftermath of their passionate love-making. She was aware now of the myriad night sea-sounds that surrounded her on all sides; the gentle swish of the sea as it sluiced past the bow of the Vera, the incessant metallic tapping of the wire halyard against the boat's aluminum flag pole, the hum of the powerful engines below decks. And something else. As she listened, she gradually noticed other sounds, human sounds, voices, coming from the porthole beside her head. Of course. Kate and Harry in the cabin below, washing the dishes from the evening meal. Indistinguishable at first, they became clearer, and if she listened closely she could almost…
A sudden shiver ran down Lynn's spine as she finally realized the nature of the sounds. Unbelieving, she froze in the indecision of whether to run away, to find some secluded corner of the boat where she would not be able to hear, or else stay quietly and avoid discovery. For the sounds she heard clearly now, coming from the cabin below, were the unmistakable passionate cries of two people lost in frenzied sexual abandon.
"Oh, Harry! Ohhh, yes! Yes! You've got such a beautiful hard cock! I love it inside, love it filling my cunt! Ohhhh! Fuck me, Harry, fuck me like this forever! Ohhhhh!"
Lynn felt an incredible dryness in her mouth and throat as she heard the lewd exchange of words. She wanted to get up and run, to escape the vile, disgusting talk which had suddenly invaded her ears, but her legs wouldn't move.
"Ohhhh, Kate, Kate!" came the panting voice of Harry Johnson. "Wrap your legs around me and pump your pussy on my cock! That's it, keep pumping me! Ahhhhh!"
Torturously, as if she needed to reassure herself that her mind was not playing tricks on her, that her ears could be believed, Lynn held her breath, waiting for the next terrible outrage to be committed on all that was sweet and good.
"Ahhhhh!" Kate cried out abandonedly. "Fuck up into me with your cock like that again, Harry! Ahhhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhhh!"
Lynn was perspiring freely now, her body wet underneath her light summer dress, beads of cold perspiration running down between her tightly constricted chest and belly to her cunt below which was tingling madly, salaciously, wickedly; for a moment she thought she was going to faint. A sudden wave of excitement was sweeping over her, making her confuse for one delicious moment what was going on in the cabin below with what had happened by the small greenhouse of her parents' back yard so long ago. She was exchanging places with her hostess in her imagination, and it was she that was getting fucked so beautifully rather than Kate. She tried to clear her senses, for she felt dirty, betrayed – and yet the passion climbed steadily, building faster and faster in a tornado that threatened to take command of her now awakened loins.
Transfixed by her own inner sensations, Lynn was unable to stop herself from being drawn to the porthole, carefully leaning forward across the deck. Her mind of boiling emotions prodded her, the lucidity of what she was doing and the self-loathing she experienced because of it fused together with the incoherency of mingling the reality of now with the dreams of Mark and herself.
She lay now with her head opposite the porthole and, guiltily, reached out to open the already ajar window. She gasped with a sudden intake of breath, and stared wide-eyed at the writhing, crashing couple on the bunk below, at the carnal, lewd side-show of her host and hostess… Her mouth opened and she breathed raggedly but silently, and her vagina began to beat with an insistent pulsation, causing a flowing wetness of spiraling arousal down between her legs.
Kate Johnson, her full, beautifully sculpted body completely naked, lay on her back with her slender legs raised high in the air, her ankles and feet spread wide and straining to touch the ceiling. And her husband, his muscled body glistening with sweat, was astride her like a rider breaking a wild mare, his firm, hard buttocks charging powerfully up between her open thighs in a rhythm as old as man itself, and he had his lips tightly fastened to one of the girl's tender budding breasts. There was the soft slap of their naked flesh meeting, and the wet surge of Harry's hard, shining cock penetrating her hungrily clasping cunt, and the ecstatic expressions of sheer delight on both their faces as they heaved and bucked, flexed and jerked. One of her slim hands was pressed hard into her husband's muscular driving buttocks, down in the crevice between his cheeks, and her finger was slowly revolving inside his arched, clearly visible anus, following the tempo of his strokes by fucking his rectum in return.
Lynn's brain reeled convulsively, unable to understand her fascination at the spectacle. No, she cried silently, I shouldn't watch this. NO! But her eyes were frozen to the scene like warm lips onto icy cold metal.